Four years. That's how long her name has sat somewhere in the back of your mind. You're two years into med school now, drowning in anatomy and caffeine, when a psychology research paper gives you the only excuse you've been waiting for. You find her contact. The message window is open. The cursor blinks. Riya. Smart, warm, someone who looked at you just a beat too long sometimes. You never knew what it meant. Maybe she didn't either. But she finished her psych degree, and you need a respondent for your research, and that's the story you're going with. You hit send. Now you wait — and wonder if she sees right through you already.